“Eight.”
The button lit and he came and stood beside me, arm snaking around my waist. Between the look of his face, skin cracking and oozing and the smell he gave off, it was almost impossible to not pull back, let alone keep the smile on my face.
I was trying to remember why we were keeping this guy alive. Oh yeah, Suit wanted him dead. As I was choking on the scent of rotten eggs, I wasn't confident in that choice. Would it be so bad if we let Suit have his way with him?
“What were you doing at the airport, anyway?”
“I've got family here. I just dropped my sister off.”
“They let you in the terminal?”
“My cousin works security.”
He nodded, buying my story.
The doors slid open and I walked as slow as I could toward mine and Fate's hotel room. I fumbled around in my purse.
“Oh no. I can't find my key. I must have lost it! We're going to have to go to the front desk.” I looked up at him. Was he buying this? It looked like he was. I thought I was actually quite a bad actress, but I guess he must have really wanted to believe.
“Hang on.” He walked away and I saw a man with a nameplate on further down the hall. What the hell! I'd had decent luck my entire life. Everything had gone smoothly right up until I died. Now? Nothing went right.
“I'm really not supposed to do this,” the man said as he walked back over with Maxwell, his skin glowing even brighter in comparison to Maxwell's oozing. “But okay.”
A minute later he was opening the door and wishing us a pleasant evening. Thanks, bozo. Good job. Glowing karma or not, I wanted to trip him down the stairs, right now.
I walked in the room and looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes of stalling and his plane would be gone. Fifteen very long minutes, as he stared at me like I was a rump roast and it was dinnertime.
Fate's things were here and there, but Maxwell didn't seem to care enough to ask about them. Really? You don’t notice a guy’s shirts hanging in the open closet?
“Come here,” he said, patting the bed next to where he'd just taken a seat.
“Let me make you a drink first.” I opened the mini bar. Long Island Iced teas had a lot of stuff in them. That should kill a whole whopping minute or so as I opened up all the mini bar bottles. I could probably “freshen up” for another five.
“That's not what I want.” His hand snaked around my waist from behind and he pulled me into him. Never should’ve turned my back on him.
“What the hell is this?” We both turned to see Fate standing in the doorway. I was glad I knew it was an act or I might have been nervous, because he looked pretty damn pissed. He appeared exactly like the angry husband about to be cuckolded. Now Fate would make a good actor if he ever went human.
“You said you split!” Maxwell said, turning on me.
And you had no problem ignoring all the male items in the room, you sniveling jerk.
“I lied.” I threw my hands up in a bewildered way. “I hate to tell you in this uncomfortable fashion, but I'm a bit of a loosey goosey.” I had a hard time not laughing at my own words. No one else seemed to find me as funny as I did though.
Maxwell was putting as much space between us as he could now, as he tried to circle around where the seething Fate stood, toward the door.
“I had no idea. She lied to me,” he said to Fate in what sounded like his best fake indignation.
Am I the only lousy actor here?
“Get. Out.” Fate said, his jaw tense and his veins pulsing.
Maxwell scrambled from the room and I didn't blame him. Fate was really putting on a great show, maybe a little thick for my tastes, but good nonetheless.
He even slammed the door after him.
“What about the plane? Can he still make it?” I asked as soon as we were alone.
“It left early.”
“Any sign of Suit?”
“I've got it covered.”
“What's wrong with you?”
“You don't follow directions well.”
“You said keep him off the plane. I kept him off the plane.”
“You bring him here, alone?” I watched him walk out, slamming the door, again.
“Jerk!” I screamed at the door. I gave him a ten-minute lead and made my way back to the airport. Time was running out to find the murderer before I would move on and I didn't have patience for his games.
I looked down into my purse to make sure I had the knife I'd packed. I wasn't leaving here without handling this situation. Fate could figure out another way to prove his conspiracy theory. I'd never had an interest in finding alien burial grounds, JFK's killer or any other such plots. Taking out the direct hand in my murder would suffice for me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I didn't know where Fate had gone after his arbitrary order. Guy seriously needed to lighten up a little. Still couldn't figure out what had gotten him all in a puff. He complained when I didn't do what he wanted; now he was going to complain when I did.
I was standing across from the entrance of the airport, stewing over why he was so irritable, when I saw the cops arrive. Too many cops and all with a purpose.
He can't get on that plane, Fate had said. I’d been so pissed off about my food I hadn’t even thought about what that meant at the time. Only one thought sprang to mind, and unfortunately, I was afraid it was the most likely.
I crossed the street quickly, not caring about Suit at that minute. I entered the main airport lobby. There were screens everywhere, all with the same picture of a fiery mess.
I edged in closer to one of the TVs, trying to hear the details.
“It went down soon after it took flight without any kind of warning or distress signal,” the newscaster said, the camera never budging from the scene.
“I told you to stay in the room,” Fate said from beside me.
“You tell me a lot of things I don't listen to.” I turned on him. “You knew.”
“Not here.”
He turned and walked out of the airport. I left as well, not having the stomach to watch anymore and wanting answers.
He was crossing the street when I caught up to him and yelled, “Admit you knew!”
He turned and stopped. “I don’t remember denying it.” He shrugged like it was no big deal and then turned and kept walking.
I followed after him. “Why didn't you try and stop it?”
“I couldn't,” he said, stopping in the middle of the parking lot.
“Would you have if you could?”
“No.” He was straight faced without an ounce of regret.
“Why? Aren't we supposed to be making this place better?”
“You're still thinking like a human. We aren't here to make it better, we're here to keep everything in line. There's a significant difference between the two.”
“But Harold said I could—”
“Harold was giving you the company line. He said you could get your murderer too, knowing you wouldn’t be able to do it on your own.”
“I can't wait to get the hell out of this and away from all of you.”
I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. We had an audience. Suit was standing in the shadow of a van, watching our every move.
Fate moved closer to me and whispered softly, “Don’t look at him. Just follow me back to the hotel.”
“But we'll lose him.”
“No, we won't.”
“Do you have other skills I'm unaware of?”
“Not skills. Resources.”
“If I follow you and we lose him—”
“We won't. But I’d love to know why he seems so interested in you.” He closed the gap even more, “If you’re lying to me, I will kill you.”
He turned on his heel and took off toward the hotel.
I could stay here with Suit, who’d already killed me once, or follow Fate, who only threatened death. Really, it was a no brainer.
***
Dinner came and went, as we sat in the hotel room and watched the clock strike midnight.
I was sitting by the window, calling myself every kind of name in the book for relinquishing control, again.
“You said you had 'resources.' Where are they and why aren’t they calling? Did they lose him?”